Scorpius: These Lies We Live
by OhMargaret
Summary: Going from mortal enemies to agreed acquaintances scared them both unimaginably, but, at the same time, it felt right. If only they knew what the other was up to. Companion piece to Rose: These Lies We Live.
1. Scorpius Malfoy, an Introduction

Hey _guys!_

 _This is a companion piece from Scorpius' POV for my story 'Rose: These Lies We Live'. I hope you enjoy, don't forget to review with any feedback you may have! -M_

* * *

Why do people judge us on what we are? It's never who we are or what we do. The first impression is always about the way that we look, smell, even talk. They never look at what's really inside us and what's really worth staying for. For me, my name is enough to send them running.

The reason?

My family fucked up long ago. That's an unfortunate truth I have to live with every day. My grandfather, Lucius was born into the Aristocratic, pureblood and callous family called the Malfoy's. For that definite reason, I'm sure, he was probed into the belief that we, accompanied with all other family's with "blood as pure as ours", were incalculably better than all others who "cowered before us" (his words, not mine). My grandfathers arsetard vision of a perfect pureblood family is the most glaring indicator of his unfathomable case of narcissism. Obviously, inbreeding _never_ crossed his shit hole of a brain. Then, he had to go and make it all better and join the oh-so noble and righteous Deatheaters. Bloody brilliant that man, absolutely wonderful (please note my heavy sarcasm). Not to mention the fact he got my father branded with a dark mark and made him perpetrate to something no-one, especially teenage kid, should ever have to deal with. Being forced to kill your headmaster by your own father must have been so fucking scarring. No wonder my father has a perpetually horrified look in his eye when he thinks no one is watching.

And thus, I fall into the trap of being the book being judged by the cover because of my murder-worthy surname.

Despite the apparent interest from girls clamouring after me for my devilish wit and charm, I am more inclined to believe their intentions lie wholly in getting close enough to me to sell a lovely story to Witch Weekly. Charming. And thus, my dinner times at the Slytherin table are regrettably spent listening to people who claim they are my friends (apart from Greg) telling me tentative shit about what other houses (namely Gryffindor, what a surprise) have said about me. The comical part is that most of them have never even talked to me. Well, by that I mean a proper conversation.

"Infatuating half bloods and filthy mud bloods!" the words still clamour around in my mind like a brass band. His haughty voice wound itself around the manor like a disease to a new born child. I never understood why, for such a small family, we reside in such extravagant living quarters. I knew it had accumulated more deadly memories than Hogwarts (hint hint, Voldemort), but assume that when you're as twisted as my Grandfather you try and hold on as tight as possible to memories as horrifying as those. Getting back to the point, Grandfather was lecturing me about the do's and don'ts of life in Hogwarts before the beginning of my first year. And fretting around with those that didn't, per se, possess the same ranking in the social ladder as me, was unsurprisingly top on the don'ts. What a fantastic way of teaching your grandson to make friends in a new school where he was highly unlikely to have none I remember thinking to myself. All I wanted to scream in his upturned face was:

"Do you not realise no one apart from you gives a shit!"

That, coming from an 11 year old dumbfounded to why his grandmother, father and mother, just sat there, listening to that lunatic rant and rave without even attempting to interject. To be truthful, I'd never seen any of them look so emotionless. Mother and grandmother sat next to each other, platinum blonde hair cascading down their backs, blue eyes immersed with the grey flagstones, holding up no showcase of whatever was running through their minds. If it weren't for their faces and age, they could easily be twins. Almost identical sombre black dresses graced both of their slender bodies, because seriously, my family wears almost everything black, period. It appears as though we're in a perpetual state of mourning over the death of our family name, although I feel Grandfather mourns something (or someone) different. Father was situated next to mother, a pale, elongated hand resting almost possessively on her thigh. His feverish, stoic grey eyes were flickering, I noticed, from me, to grandfather, to the floor simultaneously. His receding slick of, also, platinum hair was combed back from his porcelain face, his pointed chin giving him the resemblance of a spooked cat. A horrendously expensive suit clad itself on his now, not-so, muscular body. The suit was black, of course.

Then there was Grandfather.

He reminds me of a sick vampire - one that hasn't eaten for years. I'm quite surprised they let him out of Azkaban, and I seriously hope they send him back there. I tell you though, it did turn him into a dishevelled, ball-less and terrified excuse for a man -for about a week. But his looks never did recover. Grandfather, the old fart, has an endearing bald head, which the light of the fire was dancing over. He was residing in his favourite armchair, sitting directly opposite myself who was occupying the adjacent seat. He had one minuscule eyebrow cocked, his pale elongated fingers caressed the (black) wand in his pocket. His drawn cheekbones, sharp nose and blazing grey eyes were staring directly at me. I'm surprised his lips could actually talk so much, they're that thin. Thank whatever is above me for gracing myself with my mother's beauty. No girl in their fucking mind would come anywhere near me if I resembled an inch of my grandfather.

And now, 6 years later, I, Scorpius Malfoy, am sitting in this green armchair (surprisingly not black) trying to drown out the suffocating voice of my Grandfather, sitting directly opposite me, giving me the same shitty lecture he has been doing for the last 5 years. Fan-fucking-tastic. Right now, I think he's spouting on about "controlling my hormones" now I am coming round to being of age. I think perhaps the only thing more likely to get me crucioed to death by my own grandfather more than a non-pureblood child would be an accidental non-pureblood child. I'm restraining myself from regrettably informing him that he is two years late for this amusing addition to his yearly speech. I'm resting on a solid assumption that Grandmother and Mother have asked him to inflict me with this excruciating token of conversation, although I'm sure Grandfather assumes the fact I "Whomped my Willow" long ago judging by the look he's giving me. Then, he does something I would have bet all my money on him never ever doing; seeing as he has the emotional range of a chicken egg.

He chuckles. But as soon as I tear my vision away from his eyes and to his mouth, it's gone as quickly as it came. Now that's something they should write about us in Hogwarts: A History.

I'm sure he's actually quite besotted with the fact his own grandson got laid aged 14. For the love of flobberworms, by the end of the week no doubt everyone grandfather talks to will know this. Fortunately, he doesn't have too many friends of acquaintances these days. His steely eyes and arched eyebrow are just oozing _Scorpius, you are the biggest disappointment of my life._

"As always Grandfather, your invaluable knowledge astound me and I am forever thankful. Now if you don't mind, I have a trunk to pack." I smirk sarcastically and make haste away from the conversation and up to my bedroom.

* * *

 **SCORPIUS'S ROOM**

A sharp rap erupts from the direction of my bedroom door.

"Come in." I drawl flatly. I don't bother getting off my bed and instead, I'm just lying here, unexcitedly anticipating another lecture from whichever family member is currently disgruntled with me.

"Scorpius, sit up." I hear my father drawl in a way entirely different from myself. I get up. His tone isn't pretty. I bet you 10 galleons right now, he's about to tell me how disappointed he is in me for losing my flower at such a young age.

"I want to talk about what your Grandfather said." He states flatly, grey eyes burning loopholes through my head. Avada me now! Did he just say ... talk? In all honesty, I'm stupefied. But I'm a Malfoy, lay it on thick Scorpius, lay it on thick. I cock my eyebrow and smear our trademark smirk across my face.

"Talk about what, father?" I challenge.

"I want you to know, don't listen to a thing he says - unless it's truly worthwhile. I made that mistake 25 years ago and look how it's left me." My father whispers, there's almost a hint of longing and sorrow in his voice. Though, his same steely expression gives away nothing of the sort. I look my father in the eye, I almost feel sorry for the old man I mean, the fact that he just told me that is, well, _so_ un-Malfoy. Moreover, the reason for his big fat fail in fatherhood is no fault of his own. Come on, Lucius Malfoy is his father. Lucius Malfoy is the fucking reason my father turned into a nervous shit behind closed doors. I have a knack for listening into his and my mother's conversations.

But now, I have not a clue what to say for the first time in my life. So I lie back on my bed and mumble "mhmm." God Malfoy, what the hell's wrong with you?

"The thing is Scorpius, I really wish I could turn back time and make everything better for you. But I can't. It must be hell in school, I understand completely. Which is exactly why I want you to know, I really don't care about who you're friends with ok?" he said again, in the same sorrowful whisper as before.

"Ok, father." I drawl again, this time I just stare at the ceiling. Don't act surprised, Malfoy, keep pretending. You're completely at ease. Yeah right.

Then he absentmindedly scratched the arm I knew was burdened with that bloody dark mark. There's just a scar now that Voldemort's dead. But all the same. Now, the door was closing and I'm left here, lying back on my bed again. What a great Father-Son bonding session. I now owe you 10 galleons.

If only I was like _her._

Perfect parents, who saved the world. Plus, she's got so many cousins running around Hogwarts she has no idea what it's like to be lonely. And I'll never admit it out loud, but she's bloody gorgeous.

Her name just oozes beauty. _Rose._

She's got the perfect body, not that I've been looking. Her luscious auburn hair has loose curls draping themselves around her amazing face. It's always fluffy and messy, like she's constantly running her hands through it. I often find myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands through it. Her lips are full and pouty, and I always have to fight the urge to go and kiss her whenever she bites her lip. They always say eyes are the window to someone's soul. In my case, every time I look into her big brown eyes, all I see is this emotion I can't decipher, crossed with pure and utter hatred for me. Every time I look into those big brown eyes, I want to scratch them out. She scares the shit out of me, and she infuriates me more than anyone I know (excluding Grandfather). That's one thing she inherited from her family, her arrogant temper.

I groan. Why can't this just be easy? Father's right, school is hell, with her walking around me and knowing I'll never be to have a civil conversation with her, let alone kiss her. She's a Weasley.

God, these lies we live.


	2. Scorpius Malfoy Doesn't Do Confusion

_Hey guys, here's the second instalment of Scorpius:TLWL. Apologies for the lack of Scorose, but I want to introduce you a bit more to Scorpius and his relationships a bit. Hope you enjoy! -M_

* * *

"Scorpius, Master Scorpius!"

"Christ alive Nora!" I cry, leaping up from my sheets as the bug-eyed house elf blinks innocently in my face.

"Nora is sorry to awake Master Scorpius! But Mistress Astoria told me to wake Master Scorpius at quarter past the hour, sir." She squeaks. Merlin, how did I forget - the first day of Hogwarts is today. Voldepoo. I glance at the clock, exactly 6:15 am.

"Thank you, Nora, you can go now." I smile at her through a yawn, shooing her with my hand before she begins to make my bed. Sadly, we still employ house elves at the manor due to the enormous size of the building, but don't worry - we clothe, feed them and always treat them with respect. With all the energy I can muster I clamber out from under my sheets, my bare chest greeted by the cold morning air. I shiver as my bare feet hit the stone flagged floor and I run my hands through my hair, blowing out a sigh I didn't realise I had been holding. I absolutely loath going back to school. On that shitty train, making shitty tedious small talk, pretending to be interested in Greg Zabini's ranting about how many girls he managed to shag over the holidays. I sigh again, as I make my way to the shower. Today was going to be a bloody long day.

A cold shower, mirror admiration and breakfast later, I'm standing in the entrance hall in my new shiny dragon leather shoes and crisp white shirt. My hands are burrowed deep in the pockets of my tailored trousers, and I can feel my emerald tie balled up in one of my fists. I can also feel the smooth edge of my prefect badge pinned to the tie. Despite the fact that the title bought me happiness knowing I had defied everyone's expectations as a Malfoy for getting the position, why did I have to be the _lucky_ few to have one of those on this day. I despise patrolling the train and having everyone sneer crude remarks in my direction. I'm probing a piece of toast from between my teeth when I hear a sharp rap of heels on stone, and I straighten up, greeting my mother with a half-hearted flash of my pearly whites - hopefully minus the toast.

She greets me with the same half-hearted smile. _Score, no toast._ Her hair is scraped up into a tight bun, and yet again, a black outfit is gracing her frame. This time it is a jacket and pencil skirt, and I can see her hefty wedding ring glinting in the morning sun.

"Must you always stand so antisocially?" she questions, raising an eyebrow as she does.

"Sorry mother." I state moodily. Personally, I've never considered hands in pockets particularly life threatening or antisocial, but unfortunately etiquette is still everything in Malfoy Manor. How could I forget? In defeat, I pull my fists out of my pockets, leaving my tie behind.

"That's fine, darling." Mother coos, her pursed lips tantalisingly close to a smile. Her blue eyes focus on the door. No emotion there, as per usual.

"Your father has gone to work, he will not be accompanying us this morning, and your grandfather and grandmother have left for their country home. It will be only the both of us this morning." I notice the way she sounds relieved when she talks about grandfather and I have to admit I'm feeling exactly the same.

"Apparating?" I question, knowing the answer before it comes.

"Yes darling." Mother states again. Merlin, she's full of conversation. I place one of my pale hands on the head of my bulky trunk, my broom case under my arm and hook the other through the crook of my mother's arm. She's tentatively holding my owl cage away from her, not that I blame her in the slightest - Rufus is a rather restless tawny. No sooner than you can say Bogart, invisible bars crossed across my chest and I felt them constrict my airways, and I am salvaging all that was left of my last breath. But as quickly as the feeling started, it disappears as our feet come to land on a damp alleyway floor, trunk thudding with a bang next to me. Mother turns sharply on her heel, and I follow her footsteps as we exit the gloomy alleyway and out to the entrance of Kings Cross train station, where we're greeted with a host of stares and furrowed brows. I would like to say that it's the sight of my handsome face that is attracting their open mouths, although I regrettably think it has more to do with Rufus the owl.

"Off you go." mother says, one hand pressed lightly on my back as we reach the entrance to platform 9¾.

"Off I go." I grumble back. I am yet to experience running through this damn wall without feeling like an absolute fool, running like someone who's been crucioed into insanity. I pray no muggles see me as I feel myself swallowed up by the wall, then shunted out onto the hidden platform, tossed here and there between old witches in pointy hats and robed adults hugging their precious first year children before they board the train. Oh _please._

"Have a good year darling!" my mother high voice presses from behind me. I snap around and for the first time that day manage a real smile. I feel her hand sit on my shoulder, briefly reaching up to head to ruffle back hair.

"I will do mother. Goodbye, I will miss you, as always." I say back with a sad tone. We have never hugged in public, the idea seems entirely unnatural, but my mother does manage a small but genuine smile and a knowing nod.

"Goodbye Scorpius." She offers back politely before pecking me on the cheek and turning to leave. I feel my smile fading as I twist back round, facing the scarlet _Hogwarts Express_ before me. Bring it on.

* * *

All my belongings are stacked neatly on the overhead shelves and most importantly, my broom case is secure and safe with the aid of a shielding charm. I wonder what my father would say if it accidentally broke. Actually, I have a funny feeling it would be _"I shall just buy you another."_ I don't bother trying to wave goodbye to my mother as I know she left long ago. One trait her and I most certainly share is the desire to be as far away from emotional first years and their parents on this day. For this reason, my parents have never stayed to wave me off with the exception of my first year. Besides, there's so much smog smothering the platform, I have no hope even if she was there. But disappointingly there is one person I do spot and she's not the person I'm looking for. _Definitely_ not the person I'm looking for, although admittedly she's hard not to miss considering the fact she's laughing around with her ridiculously large family. She seems tanned compared to last year and I make a mental note to tease her about the fact that she probably still doesn't have freckles despite the sun, and that she should question if she really is a Weasley. I can see that, like me, she was wearing half of her school uniform already, a scarlet badge pinned half-heartedly to her grey cardigan. I'm pretty sure she's looking forward to rounds a lot more than I was myself. Merlin, she looks so amazing, and she's doing absolutely nothing. But now she is doing something.

She's looking at me. Fuck, think fast Malfoy, you'll never hear the end of this if she catches you positively _gawping_ in her direction.

So, after collecting my jaw from the floor, I do the most respectable and grown up thing I can think of by shoving my middle fingers up at her through the glass. _Very grown up, even more sophisticated than your grandfather Scorpius._ And because Rose Weasley respects her position as my arch enemy, she naturally returns the favour. I can hear three familiar voices from behind me as the carriage door rolls open, and I conjure up the most feasible plan possible to make Weasel realise that I do not and will not gawp at her from any reason other than loathing. Greg Zabini slides down into the seat to my right with his arm candy, Sophia Harolds, attached to his face. And then comes the part I have been dreading most about today.

"Huuuunnyy! I missed you _so_ much baby!" comes a prissy, girly voice. Oh Merlin's balls, there's only one girl who dares to call me baby and she is...

"Brittany Gomshaw, the blondest girl in Slytherin, I … missed you too, princess." I coo, winking at the last statement in case Weasley is watching. The insincerity of my actions almost makes me wretch with disgust as I see Brittany's eyes light up, although I must remind myself that I am considered to be Hogwart's biggest player for some unknown reason and thus I have a reputation to uphold.

"Aww, Scorpy. I can't wait to get my hands on you, that's how I am!" she whispers in my ear, wrapping her obviously fake tanned arms around my neck. Brittany and I have a purely physical relationship, founded on nothing but lust and a collective desire to not entangle ourselves with the awkward and inconvenient issue of emotions. Despite this, I do occasionally find myself feeling guilty when I take out my unspent desires towards certain _other_ witches on her, but what am I to do?

But come on, _Scorpy_? Where did that even come from. A gush of Brittany's heavy perfume intoxicates my airways as I pull her towards the window, remembering that Weasley is standing on the other side of the glass and that I have a point to prove. I lay my amused smirk on Brittany's sticky pink lips and she kisses back, prodding her tongue into my mouth. I nearly wretch at the forcefulness of her kiss. _Merlin that was disgusting_ , I think as I pull away and plaster on my best _I didn't see you there_ look right across my face, aiming it directly where it needs to go - right towards the girl I had just stuck my middle fingers at. Before I've even turned towards the window, I can feel what is ridiculously close to a smile toying at my lips. But the sight that greets me is certainly the most revolting thing I have ever seen, even trumping that one time I walked past Slughorn sunbathing by the Black Lake.

Rose Weasley, engaging in some early morning tonsil quidditch with none of than Hogwarts' resident egomaniac Harry Prince, is not what I want to see on my first day back at Hogwarts. Most importantly, because it ignites the abhorrent feelings of jealousy that my body seems to spontaneously allow itself to produce whenever I see Weasley with a boy. I have tried to dull these unwelcome feelings and emotions by never allowing myself to get close to Weasley, and fight all my urges through biting sarcasm and insults directed her way. My tactics clearly haven't been wholly successful, but a man can try.

"How the fuck did _she_ manage to get _him_." Brittany chimes up spitefully from beside me, her gaze finding the same destination as mine.

"How the fuck did _he_ manage to get _her_." I add half jokingly, ripping my vision away from Weasley and towards Brittany who greets me with eyes full of judgement. Fuck, maybe that sounded more sincere than it was meant to.

"She's disgusting Scorpius, how can you even joke about something like that?" Brittany shoots at me, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head. I feel the urge to remind her that jealously is a decidedly ugly trait, although that would make me a hypocrite considering my feelings only a few seconds ago.

"Precisely why it's a funny joke. Are you _sure_ your British Gomshaw, because you don't seem to speak sarcasm particularly fluently considering its our national sport." I state dryly, not caring to engage her any further. Her bland personality and tendency to pick unnecessary fights are two of her unfortunate downsides. She just shakes her head in judgement again, sticking her nose up in the air as she hauls Sophia Harolds up off from her rendezvous on Greg Zabini's lap.

"You really are insufferable Scorpius. It was nice to see you finally, but I clearly have better places to be." Brittany snaps as she hauls both herself out of the carriage, slamming the door curtly behind her. I am baffled for a minute and try to contemplate what I possibly did or said to get her knickers in a twist – it's not like she's not used to me being an imprudent arsehole. I take a seat opposite Greg and we share an amused glance, both shaking our heads.

"Fucking women." He chuckles.

"Tell me about it." I laugh back, raising my hand to give him a friendly handshake (Slytherins don't do hugs either, we really are a callous bunch). Despite our seemingly uncaring nature, I am relieved to see Greg. Our friendship is one of the few sincere relationships I have managed to foster during my time at Hogwarts, seeing as he really doesn't seem to care about who my family are, for which I am forever thankful. If I wasn't friends with him I'm sure I would have gone mad a long time ago.

"Speaking of fucking women, something bad is happening to me mate – it appears I'm losing my touch." Greg laughs again, shaking his head with an annoyed smile.

"What a pleasure it is to see you after all these months too Zabini." I retaliate, unsurprised at his tendency to talk about himself at the first given opportunity.

"As if you have a heart big enough to have missed me, you filthy snake. We don't do small talk – we're Slytherins remember." He laughs back, resting his arms cockily behind his head and arching an eyebrow.

"Fine, you see right through me. But I _have_ missed your positively riveting stories of how many notches you've managed to add to your bedpost over summer, so don't hold back." I drawl sarcastically, but with just enough sincerity to make Greg believe that I mean what I say.

"You're not going to believe it, but I haven't shagged a single girl apart from Sophia this summer! She's bloody amazing, I'm telling you! What about you mate, had anyone special on your hit list this summer?" Greg Zabini's says, sounding surprised at himself as he admits out loud that he's only slept with one girl all summer. Fucking hell, something has drastically changed and I haven't even laid a foot inside Hogwarts yet. I can see the scenery begin to change in the window and realise the train has begun to move.

"Despite popular opinion, I do not fuck and chuck for sport unlike yourself. Seducing women is an art, not a game. And perhaps if you considered women as more than a checklist item you might manage to sleep with more than one of them." I respond in a taunting but friendly tone, raising my eyebrows and smirking.

"What a very Malfoy way to avoid my question. So, Mister Lockhart want-to-be, have you been engaging in any artistic activities this summer as you so eloquently put it." Greg probes again. The only thing I despise about this boy is his inherent ability to see through my lies, an ability granted to only a few people in Hogwarts.

"I've painted a fair few pictures Zabini." I sigh, giving him a fake smile before settling my gaze on the window trying to end this unnecessary token of conversation. My statement isn't entirely a lie – I've been studying Muggle art over the summer and have indeed painted a few albeit measley portraits.

"Oh I bet a _few_!" Greg taunts, and out of the corner of his eye I catch him winking at me with his navy-blue eye, his tanned skin contrasting against his ink black hair. Why do I have to be so pale and blonde? Fortunately, before Greg can probe any further into my love life, the sound of the carriage door being opened forcefully interrupts our conversation.

"Sophia, back so soon. I see yours and Zabinis relationship is positively _magnetic_." I say, surprised at the sudden re-emergence of the girl who was only dragged away a few minutes ago.

"Brittany's being a whiny bitch and I'd rather not have her complaining in my ear about you being an arsehole for the entire journey. I have to endure enough of that during the year." Sophia pouts as she returns to her position on Greg's lap.

"I apologise sincerely. Surely she has noticed by now that being an arsehole is not an optional personality trait of mine." I laugh, unsurprised at the fact that Brittany has been complaining about me once again. It appears to be her favourite hobby by the sounds of things.

"She has. Apart from your good looks I don't know what she sees in you, no offence." Sophia states bluntly in the most honest and Slytherin way possible. I don't take offence considering honesty and the courage to _be_ honest are two traits I value highly.

"None taken." I reply with a small but sincere smile.

"I do however take offence that you consider my best mate to be good looking." Greg chimes in, granting the girl in his lap an annoyed but loving look as he wraps his arms protectively around her waist.

"Clearly your emotional availability is far more appealing Zabini, I wouldn't worry." I smirk, moving my gaze to the window once more so as to avoid having to witness their loved-up behaviour, which is positively disgusting.

"I don't worry. I think we both know that you reserve your emotions for one person, and one person only." Zabini chuckles back, and the amused tone of his voice causes me to look at him once again. I am greeted with raised eyebrows and amused smirks from both Sophia and Greg which confuses me greatly, considering I take extreme care in being unemotional at all times so as to not provide anyone with any ammunition to use against me when commenting on my character.

"Would you care to enlighten me on exactly who that is, because last time I checked I don't possess emotions. Part of my genetics." I respond.

"You should really work on the whole self-denial act of yours, Malfoy. It's going to give you wrinkles, and that will surely make me the best-looking bloke in school." Greg laughs again, which only serves to add to my confusion, which annoys me because Scorpius Malfoy doesn't do confusion.

"You already _are_ the best-looking guy in school." Sophie coos at Greg with puppy dog eyes and I have to stop myself from audibly wretching.

"You really do know the way to my heart, don't you?" Greg responds with the same puppy dog eyes. He really must like her, Merlin's balls. I snort loudly with amusement, and take this as my cue to leave before I have to witness another snogging episode.

"So, you've managed to locate Zabinis heart. Congratulations Harolds I've been searching for years. Now if you'd please excuse me, I have to go vomit." I drawl as I haul myself out of my seat and out of the carriage which leaves me with only one place to go.

As I mentioned earlier, I would like to conveniently avoid my prefect patrol duties on the train as I can't be bothered to tolerate the unnecessary hate or pent up female hormones that are forced my way. Instead, I will do exactly what I did for the majority of last years journey – make myself at home in a carriage full of Slytherin females so that I needn't make any conversation and just grant them enough brooding looks for them to be satisfied. For amusements sake, I purchased the entire trolley's supply of chocolate frogs last year and handed them over to a bunch of first years for some light entertainment. The mess that ensued, coupled with the extremely angry and chocolate covered Rose Weasly screaming hysterically at me when she eventually found my hiding place, was enough humour to last me for a week. I stalk the corridor a little further before a suitable carriage comes into view.

"Hello ladies, may I sit down?" I drawl, rolling open the door and leaning lazily against the door frame. The three blondes, who I recognise as being in the year below myself, seize their girly giggling and their eyes all simultaneously glaze over like happy puppies. Sadly, if they get the idea that I am here for anything other than brooding looks they will be sorely disappointed. But hey, we can play on that.

"Hi Scorpius, remember me from your potions tutoring?" the girl nearest the window chimes with a hopeful smile. Unfortunately for her, I tutor many blonde girls for potions, and thus resort to granting her a blank stare.

"I'm Olivia!" she responds with a slightly disappointed look in her eye. I should feel bad, but I don't. Hogwarts is already full of people trying to get to know me under false pretences.

"Scorpy! Nice to see you. Thank you again for that Firewhiskey at the end of year party." The girl opposite her smiles confidently. Fuck, what is it with _Scorpy_? I vaguely recognise her face, so I decide to chance a guess at her name. I always start with 'A' when guessing names seeing as it's the first in the alphabet.

"Anna?" I question with a confident smirk.

"Close, Alexandra. Don't worry you were pretty drunk, I forgive you for not remembering my name." she coos, batting her lashes with an inviting smile. _She seems keen enough_ I think, hanging a lazy arm round her neck as I slide down next to her, which results in her receiving some serious daggers from the Olivia girl. I hear her breath catch slightly and I can't help but smirk at the ridiculous nature of the situation.

"So, what have you lovely ladies been up to this summer then?" I question, cocking an eyebrow and staring at the two adjacent to me.

"Well ..." one starts up, although I have already begun to ignore what they are saying. I've always found it funny how I constantly find myself in similar predicaments to this - everyone in school knowing my murder worthy name and I barely seem to manage to remember anyone's face. How 3 quarters of the school avoid me like Spattergroit and the remaining quarter follow me round like a God. How, I, a Malfoy, despite my exceptional school grades managed to get elected prefect. How people are always trying to tell me what they think of me, always trying to pick useless fights which they know they will lose.

Speaking of useless fights…

"Malfoy, would you mind getting your arse off that seat and actually start doing what you got chosen to do?" comes a pissed off voice from the direction of the carriage door. I cock my head to see who the hell is ruining this oh so captivating monologue of self-pity.

"Fuck off Weasley, I will do what I damn well please with my life." I sneer in her face, which I spy is slowly morphing to a delicate shade of pink. _Well, we can turn that pink into crimson._ Serves her right for being able to incite such morbid feelings of lust and jealousy in my body.

"Well I'm sorry, Malfoy, but would you mind doing what you damn well want _after_ you've done your rounds?" Rose retaliates. I've never heard Rose Weasley talk to me, no wait, shriek at me, in anything else but an ardent and boorish tone. I remember the first time I ever _tried_ to speak to her. We were in first year and I was keen to trash the stupid prejudices my grandfather had drawn up for me. Rose Weasley and her cousin Albus Potter were _supposed_ to be my first step in overcoming those prejudices.

"Oi, Weasley, Potter." I drawled in my usual manner. Nothing displaced, just the same tone I used with anyone I didn't know. But Merlin, the reaction I got was astounding to say the Weasley-Potters pride themselves on not judging anyone and treating everyone as a friend.

"Fuck of, Malfoy, and don't you dare call me Weasley ever - especially in a tone like that. You're an arse hole that lives to wreck people's lives, so stay out of ours!" she yelled, nodding towards her coal haired cousin, who looked like he was about to piss himself. _Merlin's beard,_ I remember thinking _, I've_ _said next to nothing and yet you're insulting me already._ It clearly hadn't crossed her stupid, if not stupidly genius mind that at that point I didn't know either of their first names. And so, they were my first and last step in _abolishing_ those prejudices. Now I just _ignore_ most of them.

"Well I'm sorry, but since when did you get elected to be my mother?" I snicker back with extra force after revisiting the memory of our first ever encounter.

"I suppose you're not aware that McGonagall sees you as so drastically incompetent that she needs to employ me to supervise you in your prefect duties. Maybe the fact that if I catch you pissing about, I reserve the right to dismiss you of your prefect duties will encourage you to move your arse and grace the corridors of the Hogwarts Express with your presence." She fires back in her typically bossy and holier-than-thou tone. I feel an involuntary backflip in my stomach at the thought of being supervised by Weasley, which will clearly involve seeing her more than I could possibly desire. I can't decipher if the feeling is one of excitement or annoyance.

"Excuse me Weasley, but if you hadn't noticed, _Scorpy_ is having a completely fantastic time with me. So fuck off!" comes a high pitched girly voice from beside me. I had almost forgotten that I had my arm around Alexandra, and I hastily move it from her shoulder and back to its normal position. I'm beginning to regret ever coming into this carriage – _Scorpy_ seems to be becoming infectious. However, I can see Weasley's pretty face turning the furious shade of crimson I was hoping for and thus conclude my time in this carriage has been worth it considering the dirty work's been done for me.

"Roger that, Alexandra." I agree charmingly, granting Weasley with my best icy stare. She doesn't move an inch. Damn that girl and her ability to deflect my insults like they're nothing.

"I'm awfully sorrowful for the pair of you, but unless Mister Malfoy would care to lose his position of prefect immediately, I suggest he gets off his sorry arse and gets to work!" she cries back, so furiously you can almost hear the steam erupting out of her ears. Well I almost certainly do not want to lose my position of detention dishing to some psychotic and rather attractive Gryffindor. Not to mention, I dread to think what my family would say at the shame of a Weasley stripping me of my prefect title. With great effort, I rise from the infuriatingly itchy seats, but not before stage whispering to Alexandra.

"See you later." And winking suggestively before slinking out of the door and slamming it shut.

" _See you later_? Is there a woman left in Hogwarts that you haven't lead on Malfoy?" Rose questions amusedly as she struts down the shadowed corridor. _Just the one actually,_ I think to myself. I follow her petite figure and manage to catch up with her in a couple of strides.

"Got a problem with my placement of words, Weasel, because if there's some grammatical error you'd like to point out, I really don't give two shits personally." I drawl in an unamused tone, annoyed that I will indeed have to face the insults of Hogwarts on my prefect rounds today.

"Nice to see that your heart is just as black as everyone thinks it is." She laughs back coldly, although my heart doesn't register the same amusement that it should. Instead my body feels something that I can only describe as sadness, knowing that Weasley does truly believe I'm heartless. I fucking hate hormones, why does my body decide to feel this way towards all of the possible girls in Hogwarts.

"Oh, am I really that transparent, Weasel?" I manage to fire back, leaning against the wall of the corridor to get her to turn around. She notices that my footsteps have stopped, and turns to face me with an expression of severe annoyance.

"Completely and utterly!" she spits back. Merlin she's so easy to piss off – let's take this one step further and hope I can make her uncomfortable enough that she doesn't make me do prefect patrols. I move so that either of us have our backs to each side of the corridor. I can already feel the anger and awkwardness dripping off her as I move my face closer to hers.

"Seeing as your such an expert in the art of reading people Weasley, tell me, what exactly am I thinking right now?" I challenge, cocking an eyebrow and smirking hard. If she ever guesses that my teenage brain is thinking about her, in rather inappropriate ways, then you reserve the right to crucio me to death. I move my face forward, so I'm staring right into those big, mysterious brown eyes which are telling me exactly what I've known for 6 years.

 _Malfoy, I hate you._

"Well, Malfoy, you're thinking of me. That's plain as day." she chuckles back, eyes burning with a silent invitation to fight back. I'll assume her answer was a lucky guess, but fuck, you now get to Crucio me to death.

"What's also freakishly obvious is the fact that you want a piece of me Malfoy. So, here you go." She whispers, inching her face daringly closer to mine. I can smell her strawberry breath winding up my nose, messing with my senses and bringing the dreaded warm sensation into my chest. I hate her, I despise her and I loathe her for being the only person on earth that makes me feel this strongly about anything. The next few seconds happen in a blur as Weasley raises her wand sharply towards my face, making me mutter an oath so foul even Greg would tell me to wash my mouth out with soap. But before she manages to bat-bogey hex me into oblivion, the pair of us are jerked violently into the carriage behind Weasley, with enough force that the train must have run into fucking a Dementor or something. And I now find myself with Rose Weasley squirming underneath my body.

"Uuughh, fuuuck." She groans from beneath me and Merlin that sounds bad. I can feel her chest breathing heavily from beneath my collar bone. Oh shit, funny feeling, funny feeling. _Malfoy calm yourself._

"Malfoy, would you please get off me?" she groans again, this time her eyes are open and her tone is pleading. Time to play this to my advantage and give her a taste of her own medicine.

"I'm actually quite enjoying this position Weasley, and just like you said, _I want a piece of you."_ I smirk, whispering in her ear and pinning down her arms as she attempts to hex me again. I can hear her breath catching again, and she throws back her head, closing her eyes and exposing her neck, which I notice is adorned with three minute freckles. Sodding hell, if she had a different name I would have probably been to fourth base and back with her already.

"Malfoy please!" she cries "you're crushing my fucking pelvis!"

"I'm sorry Rosie-" I start to tease before…

"Fucking shitty spawn of Salazar Slytherin Weasley!" I cry, rolling off her body and onto the hard, wooden floor and clutching my crown jewels in the process. Of all the things she could have done, she had to kick me, there. Gracefully, she rises off the floor, brushing herself off and biting her lip like nothing happened.

"Oh sorry Malfoy, didn't think you were the sensitive kind!" she gasps, pretty voice riddled with amusement and accomplishment.

"Fuck you Weasel." I snarl through my pain. Only Rose Weasley would dare to kick me in the balls whilst I was pinning her down. I really do fucking despise her.

"Sorry, you're not my type Malfoy." She laughs evilly "anyway, I'm off to complete my duties and scour out the devilishly handsome Harry Prince! Adios, Scorpius!" she finishes defiantly, as she steps over me and begins to strut down the corridor.

"Oh, and when you _see_ Alexandra later, remember to use protection! You've probably spawned at least several new types of STD in the last few years!" she finishes.

"I hate you Weasley!" I shout after her, still rolling on the floor because fuck this hurts! _You don't hate Weasley, don't kid yourself_ comes the intrusive voice in my head once more. _Yes I do._

"I hate you too!" comes a fading cry from somewhere down the corridor. This really is going to be a long year.


End file.
